The Paths We Take
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: A very AU multi-chap fic. "If you tried hard enough, you could connect everyone in this city." Would the 12th still be extraordinary enough to inspire Rick Castle, even if they weren't the 12th? Full explanation inside. READ to find out; REVIEWS are love.
1. Once Upon A Time In New York City

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**Hey everyone. Thanks for checking out my story. It's kind of a unique-ish concept, I think, so bear with me while I explain for a second.**

**I love all the main Castle characters, and I love doing pieces that are more of a character study in nature. So, through one train of thought or another, I got to wondering…what if we took cophood out of the equation? Eliminated the NYPD from the storyboard? What would happen if we took the one thing that defines our detectives and unites them on the show, and tossed it out the window? (Obviously this would mean that Johanna Beckett was never killed, among other slight tweaks.) Where would they all be, if they weren't cops? What would they be doing with their lives? Would they even know each other? And how would they cross paths with Richard Castle, if at all?**

**So, basically, that's what this is. It's going to be an alternate-universe fic (which is rare for me, I know), in which Beckett, Esposito, and Ryan have all taken a different route with their lives. But, as we know all too well, it only takes a short line to connect any two New Yorkers… ;D**

**This will be a story fic (not separate oneshots), and will heavily feature Alexis, Beckett, Ryan, Esposito, Castle, Lanie, and Martha. (Not sure about Captain yet.) The only characters whose lives I did NOT alter are Martha's, Castle's and Alexis' (meaning I changed Lanie's profession too, slightly, just because). **

**I do not own Castle or its characters. Without further ado, please enjoy. ^^**

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"Kate…_Katie_, are you even listening to me? Earth to Kate, hello."

"Hm? …Oh, sorry. You were talking about that guy at the gym again." Katherine Beckett took another shirt out of her basket, peeled a static-cling-happy dryer sheet off of it, and started to fold while the fabric was still warm. She wasn't sure what she'd been looking at out the window there. Just the people, she supposed. The rush. Sometimes it was hard not to wonder where they were all going. Either way, Kate turned back to her best friend and smiled, jumping back into the conversation. "Remind me why you're here doing _laundry_ on a Friday instead of jumping him?"

Reaching up to tighten the bandana she'd tied her hair back with, Lanie Parish let her eyes roll, reaching down to start unloading her dryer. "Girl, I can _not_ ask him out."

"Well that's not what you tell _me_ every Saturday night. And most of those guys are drop-down-drunk, so what are you trying to say about my love life exactly?" Kate teased, expertly folding a pair of socks.

"Can we focus please?"

"On _what_? Lanie, you're stalking some poor guy at your gym."

"I am not _stalking_, I am appreciating from a healthy distance and nothing more."

"You told me you followed him to the men's locker room last week."

"It's not like I went _in_. He dropped his iPod. I gave it back to him."

"Which you just happened to _notice_ as you were '_not stalking_' him - you see my point now?"

With a sigh fit for the Metropolitan theatre crowd - and Kate would know at this point - Lanie set her maroon laundry basket on the next dryer over, and hopped up backwards to sit at eye level. "Katie, honey, somehow I don't think you're comprehending my English, here. He's a service man. The chances that he's _not_ dating some fine little hussy are extremely low."

"Oh, sure, she's a 'fine little hussy;' _you're_ not jealous," Kate snickered.

"And besides, he always shows up and leaves at the exact same times every day - and it's right during my workout, which means I'm not stalking - so I know he's got places to be. And it's not exactly like I have time for a relationship, either. If I don't pass my residency by the end of next month, I'mma go crazy."

"Maybe he just likes routine. They're like that in the army, you know; five-thirty wake-up-calls, drills and stuff; they're used to it; and now we've reached the end of my military vernacular."

"_Shockingly_, I don't feel like any of this is helping."

"I'm trying, I just don't see why you _need_ to come to me for help." Kate pulled a fresh, warm bed linen from her second basket, and motioned for Lanie to help her fold it so it wouldn't touch the ground. "Look, _obviously_ you really like him - what was his name?"

"Javier," Lanie supplied, picking up a sheet corner.

"So, ask '_Javier_' to go get a coffee. What's the most you have to lose? Five minutes' worth of dignity?"

"Mm, try a few _weeks_."

"Uh, no. He can't be _that_ hot," Kate challenged, rumpling a couple of skeptical eyebrows.

Lanie simply bit her bottom lip, nodding in slow-motion, eyes bugging out to make a point.

Kate stared at her. "…No."

"Oh _hell_ yeah."

"So, on a scale of one to ten - "

"Fifteen."

"Shirt on or off?"

"I stopped caring when he came back from the showers."

"_Shut_ the front door."

"I wish."

Kate raised her eyebrows to her hairline in the universal expression of female approval. "Okay, so definitely adding 'transfer to the army' onto my option list…"

"Not an option right _now_, hon," Lanie corrected. When Kate gave her a curious glance, the shorter woman pointed to the clock on the opposite Laundromat wall. "Aren't you s'posta be at the theater in twenty minutes?"

"…No, that's at three-thirty…right? I wrote it down…"

"I'm pretty sure I remember you tellin' me _one_-thirty…the dress rehearsal?"

This was the part where Kate felt the realization rushing at her like a bus. She rummaged through her purse almost _manically_, not stopping until she came up with her cell phone, and speed-scrolled through to find the calendar. Which was when she literally smacked her own forehead, shoving that hand back through her hair before rushing around to gather the last of her clothes. "Crap, crap, _crap_! I've _never_ been late before; Eric is so going to kill me…" Eric was her current director, and he had a habit of being even more of a diva than some of the actresses he worked with. "Why didn't you remind me sooner?"

Lanie shrugged, plopping another folded pair of scrubs into her laundry basket. "I'm sorry, Katie, you know I don't speak Clock once we start talkin' about fine boys. That would require a much more rational train of thought than I'll admit I have," she joked. "You gonna be able to make it on time?"

"Long as I'm not afraid to make a few enemies on the subway," Kate batted back, already halfway out the door, basket balanced on her hip. "Thanks Lanie! Call me later!"

With that, the rising star was swallowed into Manhattan foot traffic, leaving the residential nurse behind in front of a washing machine, shaking her head in what was sure to be eternal amusement.

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_Describe in under 300 words Charlotte __Brontë's views towards women's validity as expressed through her main characters._

Alexis Castle nibbled thoughtfully on the eraser end of her pencil as she re-reviewed her response to the essay question. Was she thorough enough? Then again, you probably weren't expected to get _too_ thorough when you were only allowed to use three-hundred words or less. She'd counted right, right? Maybe it would be a good idea to count again, just to make sure.

Finally, after another five minutes of poring over answers she'd already written, Alexis managed to satisfy herself that she hadn't made any sloppy mistakes. Not that she was _worried_ about the outcome of this test - she'd studied all weekend, and dad and Gram had even helped her for some of it - but she always hated not checking her work. That was how she got B-pluses on things that were supposed to be A's. Hence not making a habit of it.

Grabbing her paper, the teen slid out of her desk and crossed to the front of the room. Her teacher must have heard her coming, even with the mouse-quiet footsteps she was trying to take, because he took his feet off his desk and put down his copy of _Love In The Time Of Cholera_. Knowingly, he leaned forward and held his hand out, smirking just slightly.

Alexis smiled brightly back at her favorite teacher as she handed him the test. Sometimes she wondered if he was psychic. It was probably more like, he was good with _logic_, but her dad would've said that that was way too boring an answer.

"Thanks Alexis," he whispered, trying not to disturb the other twenty-six students who were still testing. She settled for an enthusiastic nod back, and turned around to go back to her desk, pulling some AP Trig homework out of her backpack that hung there. There were still thirty-one minutes left in this class, and she definitely intended to make use out of every one of them.

The final bell of the day rang before Alexis even knew how much time had passed. Looking up with wide blue eyes, it took her a few seconds to register what the sound meant: …_Oh. School is really over, dummy. Everyone else is leaving. You probably should too. Unless dad calling the police again sounds like a good idea._ He'd really done that once. Okay, so Alexis had been in third grade and missed the bus home because she was getting multiplication help from Ms. Dooley, and hadn't called, but that wasn't the point. She had a cell phone now. All disasters could be averted with that. Besides: _today_, she had somewhere to go after school, and it wasn't anything extracurricular. Well, not _technically_.

As the rest of her AP English Lit classmates funneled out the door and stampeded into the halls of Marlowe Academy, Alexis was just standing up, hurrying to shuffle her books and notes back into her bag. She wasn't worried about getting a taxi, though, so she decided to give the wildebeests out there a little more of a head start. It would be a lot better to wait five or ten minutes so that the front of the school wasn't so crowded. In the meantime she could get a soda from the vending machines or something.

She was just about to walk out the door when she heard her teacher's voice calling her attention back - though, he never sounded too much like a teacher in the first place. He was young for a teacher, and always sounded more like a mentor-ly friend who just happened to legally have to assign homework now and then. "Hey, Alexis! Can you wait up a sec?"

The young Castle turned at the sound of her name, then re-shouldered her backpack and walked back toward the desk that her teacher was now sitting against the edge of. "Yeah, sure."

He waited for her to come back before launching amicably into his question. "So. Feel okay about this one? How do you think you did?"

Alexis had to grin. It was just like him to pull her aside and just talk, even though she was _sure_ that was showing favorites. It never ceased to amaze her how he was always rooting for her to excel, but for whatever reason he'd taken an interest in her, she was _definitely_ glad. He was a great teacher, and she admired him almost as much as her slightly-nuts novelist of a father. Which was a high compliment in the Castle family book.

"Well, I could really tell you weren't the one who _wrote_ it, Mr. Ryan. You'd never make us 'translate the psychological nuances perpetrated' by Heathcliff," she joked.

"Nah, that's more the department's style than mine," he agreed with a smirk, but then gave her an amused little look that said he knew she was dying to answer his first question.

"I feel _really_ good about it," Alexis gushed, right on cue. "I mean, the 'nuance' thing and part of the prompt for B, those were a little confusing," she backtracked hurriedly, "but all the other prompts were really straightforward and I just found myself _writing_, even when I thought I didn't really know the answer that well; it just started coming _out_, so I'm hoping that means that I knew the material really well and not that I'm stress-writing or rambling without making any sense or something…"

"Whoa, whoa; Alexis," Mr. Ryan laughed, holding up both palms in surrender. "I'm sure you did fine," he said more gently. "Not like you've got a lot to worry about there. You know you've got a hundred percent in my class. And I think you really took to the material this time."

"I did, I _really_ did. I love the Brontë sisters' novels," she confessed.

Mr. Ryan leaned toward her a bit, pretending to fight against the appearance of a broad smirk across his face. "I do too. Don't tell any of the other faculty you heard that." Alexis grinned, and he leaned back, he folded his arms over his sweatervest and asked, "Got a favorite?"

"Book or sister?"

"We'll go with sister."

"Emily."

"Good choice. Me, I always liked Charlotte."

"Uh-oh - you're not going to make me switch out of this class for liking the rival sibling, are you?" Alexis teased.

Mr. Ryan laughed. "No, but you might suddenly have a few unexplained essays for over the weekend."

"Ah. I wonder if Heathcliff ever had to deal with that kind of discrimination?"

"Something tells me the poor guy's had enough already." They shared a chuckle over that, and then Mr. Ryan tipped his chin at the doorway, indicating the outside world. "How's everything else going?"

"Pretty good," Alexis nodded. "I mean, we finally got my dad to remember the difference between microwaveable and un-microwaveable dishes, so, it's been quieter."

The teacher's eyebrows flicked north for a second. "That _is_ always a plus…"

"Anyway, I should kind of get going; I still have to stop at my locker," the girl nodded, adjusting her backpack with apologetic eyes.

Mr. Ryan dismissed the thought with a wave. "Oh, no, yeah, go ahead. I'll see you Monday, Alexis. Have a good weekend."

"Thanks Mr. Ryan," Alexis smiled back. "You too."

With a swish of red hair, she was out the door and striding down the middle of the oak-paneled hallway, flipping her cell phone out to check the time. Three-sixteen sharp. Gram's play didn't start until four, so that gave Alexis enough time to visit with Paige for a few minutes before she absolutely _had_ to catch a taxi…maybe if she called one in advance, that would be better…

And, of course, naturally, who would expect anything different: two seconds after Alexis rounded the corner, she walked straight into a wall. Actually, it wasn't a _wall_, because it was a _he_; he was just a lot taller than she was and _obviously_ a lot stronger because _he_ wasn't the one who dropped his backpack. He wasn't even _carrying_ a backpack. He was carrying a stack of papers, which - naturally, of course, why not - ended up fluttering down to the floor. Well, _great_.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where…here, let me help…" Flustered, Alexis bent over and started scooping up what looked like pamphlets into a disorganized armful, which she kept trying to re-organize by tapping into a neater pile. She hadn't even noticed that the man had crouched next to her - helping her gather and picking up her backpack, too - until he spoke.

"Hey, take it easy, you're just fine." His voice was somehow smooth and rough at the same time, and it caught Alexis' attention. Looking up, she realized for the first time that he was in full military uniform, even decorated with a few ribbons she thought she recognized from her AP Government class. He even tried a joke out: "Let that be a lesson to me, not to take the long way to the cafeteria."

Tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, Alexis smiled as they stood up, handing his pamphlets back to him with a surprisingly minimal level of awkwardness. "Well, if it helps any, you're almost there. Just take two lefts and then - "

"A right at Ms. Caffrey's science lab," he finished with a nod. When the teen gave him a curious look, he grinned. "I've actually been here most of this month. The recruiting table at all the lunch periods and after school? Yeah, I'm that guy." He held up the pamphlets. "Just needed more copies," he explained.

The lightbulb of recognition dinged over Alexis' head. "Oh, yeah, I _have_ seen you around…sorry," she said sheepishly.

"No need to be; I appreciate your help though." Switching the stack from one hand to the other, he freed one to hold out to her. "First Sergeant Esposito."

"I'm Alexis," she returned, shaking his hand impressively - or at least she hoped so. She'd really hate to look like a wimp after she'd already made herself look like a klutz. "Not as interesting a name as First Sergeant, I guess, but it's worked for me so far…"

The recruiter laughed. "Javier," he supplied. "Nice to meet you Alexis."

"You too…I'll let you get back to your…pamphlet-restocking."

"I don't s'pose I'd be able to interest _you_?"

Alexis rumpled her nose up like a bunny, shaking her head. "Oh, no, no no. I don't think I'm really cut out for anything in the army." Instantly, that sounded stupid and offensive in her head, and her eyes widened, as if that could help her get the words out faster. "Not that there's anything wrong with it or that I think I'm _above_ you guys or anything; I mean, I _really_ admire what it is that you guys do, I _totally_ have nothing but respect, it's just that I don't really think it's for _me_, that's all."

Apparently her babbling was sufficient, because the sergeant just laughed again. "No worries, I get what you're sayin'. But, hey." He held out one of the pamphlets to her, and she took it, looking up at him. "If any of your friends are into it, give that to 'em, and tell 'em to come find me and we'll talk. I'm here all week and through part'a next month. Okay?"

Grateful for the resolution, Alexis nodded, happy to help. "Okay. Yeah. I will."

"Now I'll hold you to that…"

"I will, I promise," she grinned.

"A'right then." It was then that he must've remembered that he'd picked up her backpack for her, because he held it out to her. Alexis took it and slung it back across her shoulder with an appreciative smile, and Sergeant Esposito moved around her, calling back as he went on his way. "Good lookin' out, Alexis."

"Yeah, you too."

For a second, she just sort of stood there, shaking her head with a hint of a smile. He'd been nice…especially considering she'd made a super first impression by plowing him over. _Note to self: don't do that to anyone when you start college interviews…_ But then she remembered to check her phone…and, yep, it was now officially three-twenty-one.

Risking being busted by one of the janitors for running on freshly-waxed, post-school-hours floors, Alexis stuffed the flyer into her backpack and ran through the halls, cutting both corners to her locker and rummaging through _that_ like she was running from the law. Not that that did her any favors. By the time she made it outside, her suspicions were totally correct: traffic was rushing by like a trout spawning, and there were no cabs to be found…

Except for the one partway down the sidewalk, having just been hailed by a familiar figure in a vest and tie. He must've caught sight of her in his periphery, because before she could register it, he was waving her over. "Alexis!"

Letting a woman on a cell phone with a stroller go first, the teen cut through pedestrians with a few yelps of "Excuse me, pardon me," and came to an out-of-breath stop by the teacher's side. "Did I forget something, Mr. Ryan?"

"No, not at all - you've got a ride, don't you?"

"Oh sure…well…" She nibbled her bottom lip. "Not really. At best, I'm going to be late for my grandmother's play, and at worst I'm going to get run over by one of these guys on a Razr scooter."

Something in that seemed to surprise Mr. Ryan. "Your grandmother's play?"

Alexis nodded. "Gram's doing _Life With Father_ at Webster Hall in…" she checked her phone again, "thirty-four minutes."

She knew her teacher believed in serendipity, but apparently she'd underestimated it before. Mr. Ryan broke into a wide grin and stepped aside, allowing her access to the open back door of the taxi that'd been idling. "Just so happens I'm headed there myself - what do you say we share a cab? My treat."

The teenager blinked. "Really? And…oh, no, Mr. Ryan, I couldn't…"

"_Ye_s, really," he laughed, "an old friend of mine happens to be in it and I promised that my fiancée and I would catch a matinée. And _yes_, you can. Getting a cab is hell at this hour. Now c'mon. Hop in."

Gnawing thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek for a moment, Alexis weighed the options. Finally, she came up with the perfect compromise, and beamed at him in thanks. "How about only if we _split_ the fare?"

With a glint in his eye that would've made Ron Clark jealous, the young teacher held the door for her and nodded her in. "You make a reasonable negotiation, Ms. Castle. Let's go catch that play."

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**So! I do believe that's enough of a glimpse into their new lives for now. ;) Oh: and if anyone thinks I went out-of-character by making Kate a stage actress, let me just explain my rationale by saying that she's **_**obviously**_** taken some theatre in school, and the show makes it clear that before her mom's death, she was a bit of a Wild Child; theatre seemed like a good natural progression from that. ;) So, hope that makes a little more sense now, if you were skeptical.**

**As I say on all of my new stories: if anyone (ages 14 and over) is interested in joining a free, writing-based Castle roleplaying forum, check out the bolded paragraph in my profile - thanks!**

**Reviews are hugely important to me, you guys, and it really does make my day to hear your favorite parts or what you liked best, so **_**please**_** don't hesitate to take a second and leave a review! It means a lot! ^^**

**There is absolutely more of this to come. Want to find out how everyone comes together? Stay tuned. ;)**

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	2. Tethers And Lightbulbs

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**Chapter two of the cop-less AU saga, as promised! Without further ado, let's catch up with that play. ;)**

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The room was still coming down from its ovation when the cast of _Life With Father_ slipped behind the thick red curtain of Webster Hall's main stage. It was one of those 'natural high' sort of experiences. For Kate, there was nothing like it, and she still wore the glow from the final bow as she traipsed backstage, exhausted, digging through her duffel bag to twist the cap off her stainless steel water bottle. A long, cool drink was in order, and even through her grin, she indulged one, thinking that maybe tonight she'd see if Lanie was available to head into Tribeca. A little celebrating was overdue.

"Kate! Darling!"

Her smile only grew, as she knew the voice all too well. With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Kate turned around and headed in the direction of the maternal diva herself, The Incomparable Martha Rodgers. For Kate, she'd simply become Martha, or 'mother' when an audience was watching. They'd shared _way_ too many coffees by now to bother with splitting hairs.

Bottle still in hand, Kate stopped in front of the matron and the fiery red-haired young girl that was clinging proudly to her - then had to look humbly down at her shoes as Martha immediately started heaping on the praise. "You were absolutely _wonderful_, Kate. Top of your game. I am _unbelievably_ jealous; you make the rest of us look old and washed-up," the elder woman teased. "You're lucky you've got talent, kiddo, or I'd put a ladder over the door to your dressing room."

With a laugh, Kate felt her cheeks color, and returned the favor in earnest. "Oh, not possible, Martha. I think we've all been trying to outshine you since day one and still haven't gotten it."

The fresh-faced teenager as Martha's side was still beaming. "It's true," she gushed, "I mean, you're both right; it was fantastic! The reviews didn't do you guys justice. You did a _great_ job."

"Oh! How rude of me…" Shaking her head at herself, Martha gave the girl's shoulders a squeeze and sent her face the color of her hair. "Kate, this is my granddaughter, Alexis. And Alexis, _this_ is my good friend - "

"Kate Beckett," Alexis finished. Remembering herself, the energetic girl stuck out a hand, adding sheepishly, "I'm a really big fan. Gram told me all about you and got me copies of all the plays you've been in - not that I'm being creepy or anything like that, I just - you're _really_ good. It's great to meet you." She had to stop there to breathe.

Kate laughed, more than happy to shake the girl's hand. She wasn't used to being recognized, since all of her performances had been pretty small-time, but she wasn't going to turn away a compliment, even if she doubted its truth a little bit. "Thanks, Alexis, you too. Martha raves about you constantly." Here Kate threw a little smirk to the older actress before going on. "It's nice to finally meet the girl behind the flawless reputation."

"Oh, I'm not _flawless_ - " Alexis hurried.

"_Nonsense_, of course you are, darling; Mother Theresa is somewhere taking notes, God rest her soul," Martha tutted. "Anyway, you'd better say your goodbyes, Alexis - I think if we leave your father alone any longer he'll have tried to climb the curtains again." Kate quirked an eyebrow at that one, but the look on Martha's face said God only knew it had been done.

"It was really good to meet you," said Alexis, enthusiastically pumping Kate's hand again after a moment's debate whether she should or not. Kate laughed.

"Yeah, you too. Come back sometime and maybe the three of us could get a cup of coffee, if it's okay with - "

"Oh, that would be _lovely_," Martha anticipated, "Katie my dear, you are truly a gem."

"Really? I mean, yes, if it's not too much trouble. That'd be great!"

"We'll set it up for sure, then," said Kate, giving the girl a trace of a wink and a grin. "Anyway, you two get back to…Curtain Man."

"Trust me, we're hoping he's passed that phase," said the elder woman dryly. Kate smirked, and the Grand Dame of Off-Broadway ushered her young away with a swirl and a flourish. "Here's to breaking the other leg tomorrow night, kiddo!" she called back over her shoulder, then the two redheads disappeared into the curtain.

Hanging there a moment, Kate had to grin a bit as she watched them go, shaking her head. So that was the famous Alexis…the girl really seemed to live up to the folklore… Then again, where the Incomparable Martha Rodgers was concerned, who would've expected any different? Those genes had to be destined to set records or something. Or break them, too. Kate knew from experience, it was just one of those things that ran in families…Curtain Man was probably the exception, but other than that.

Kate was halfway through another long drink of her water bottle when a voice from behind beat her to turning around.

"Oh, gosh, Ms. Beckett, is that really you? We just _loved_ you in Gone With The Wind - you haven't aged a day."

A wide grin smacked onto her face - she'd know that snark anywhere. "Kevin!" Kate whirled and flung her arms around her old friend's neck, and he laughed, holding a bouquet of yellow tiger-lilies out of the way. "Hey, you're not in college anymore either, wiseguy."

"Easy, easy, don't crush the offering. Bad luck, I hear." He held them out to her once she slid back. "Happy reviews."

"Aww." A humble smile, and Kate took them - then poked him in the chest with the whole bunch. "Don't stall; buttering me up will only buy you ten seconds, tops. How was it, what'd you think? Unbiased opinion, Teach, I haven't got all night."

"Oh, come on, that's gotta be harassment," he grinned.

"Kevin Andrew Ryan, cold-hard Polaroids of you as a drunk mascot on the five-o'clock news."

"Jeez, you theatre people are testy," he joked, then softened. "You…were _great_. Stole the whole thing."

She had to bite her lip to hold in a squeal, not that she'd ever admit that without backhanding somebody. As one of her oldest friends, best competitor in her college years, and someone who knew his literati, his was always the review she trusted most, and for that reason she always sought it in private. "Honest opinion, you swear?" It was just habitual insurance; it was his honesty she trusted in the first place.

"Promise," Kevin answered. "I think they're trying to get Patti LuPone to forfeit you her Tony award."

"Aah!" Okay, maybe _that_ one was squeal-ish. She hugged him for the second time in two minutes - so what? _You_ try to help it - then moved back to get a better look, now that _that_ was out of the way. There were other matters on the queue, here. "So what about you? Hanging with Mr. Ripley yet? Welcoming back Kotter? What other scholarly movie references can I make?" she teased.

"Two was probably too many, since you're mocking me - "

"Eh, I try."

" - but, yes, I'm actually doing pretty well. Still handling AP English at MarCad, so, I'm taking 'not being fired yet' as a compliment."

"How's Jenny?"

"The wedding's on the eighteenth," he beamed. "You got the invite we sent, right?"

"Only scotch-taped to my kitchen cabinet," she confessed with a grin. Then she threw the back of her hand to her forehead, ever the one to indulge a flair for the dramatic. "The wedding of my college rival," she monologued. "Quaint. Intimate. The perfect setting for a Wildcat to exact her revenge on the Fighting Irish once and for all."

"Oh, boy, here we go," Kevin smirked at his shoes.

"But how would she do it? A brutal slushie as he walks down the aisle, bringing back agonizing memories of football games of yore?"

"Nice use of 'agonizing.' And 'yore.'"

"Or underwear up the flagpole, perhaps?"

"_That_ would be extremely hard to explain after the bachelor party. Or…actually not that hard."

Kate dropped her hand, fixing her friend with a sisterly smile. "Relax," she promised, her tone back to normal. "The only hijinks will be if the ring-bearer if four and forgets the ring."

"Thank you - luckily my nephew's seven."

"Though I may strategically draw a Wildcat eating a leprechaun on the back of one of your placemats and you'll never find it."

"I can live with that."

"Thus is left the mark of Kat Beckett." She studied him a beat then, all kidding aside. "It's good to see you, Kev. I'm really glad you came."

His eyes crinkled handsomely into a smile. "Wouldn't miss it. And…yeah. You too." He broke the reverie of nostalgia and gratitude by jabbing a thumb back toward the audience seating. "Jen's here too, she's talking to the director - she loved it."

"Aw, well, tell her 'thank you' for me."

"Actually she said she wanted to meet you - you got a minute?"

"Hm." For a moment, Kate pretended to mull it over; then she switched flower-bearing hands and hooked an arm through his. "Meet the future Mrs. Fighting Irish? How could I resist such an honor?"

Letting out a chuckle, Kevin led away. "Good, because I kind of promised I'd introduce her."

"Oh ho ho, a little fast to ante-up the commitments, are we?"

"It's possible."

"I can comply with that - on the condition you hereby and forever admit that the Wildcats are superior."

"Not a chance."

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"Yes. …Absolutely. …Uh-huh…you have my word…Gina? Gina." He switched ears, wedging the phone against his shoulder. "Yes, I heard you the first time. Actually, I heard you the first six-hundred and _nine_ times, but, who's counting?" The profanity on the other line was followed by a _click_ and the hum of a dialtone. Rick blinked at the phone. "I guess _you_ were."

Personally, rather than let his feral-cat publisher phase him, he chose to be amused. Shockingly little did that anymore, so why not? Rick powered off his iPhone and let it clatter to the Formica countertop. He didn't need to hear another lecture on Derrick Storm anyway. Good riddance to the fella.

Not to get him wrong or anything; Derrick Storm had been his most successful moneymaking vehicle for quite a few, very lucrative years now. The man was a phenomenon - most fiction writers worth their ink only _wished_ to hit a lucky streak like Storm in their careers. But…

He was getting stagnant. _Creatively_, it just wasn't enough. Not anymore. Even the most twisted crime was still solved neatly by the end of the book, and it could only be done so many ways. Even the most engaging, even badass scenarios became…_predictable_. Tapped out. Stale.

In plain terms: he, Richard Castle - the Johnny Depp of books, the Master of the Macabre - was _bored of the macabre_.

That would probably go a long way toward explaining the fresh bullet hole in Storm's head. Took out the character and the bestselling series in one swoop; nice and messy, real big exit wound. And it never failed to incite Gina's bitter side.

Just a fringe benefit.

What he needed now was something _fresh_. He'd written murder mysteries and criminal cases his whole _life_, practically. It was time for a change, a new spin, maybe even a departure from pulp fiction all together. A new genre. No no; a new _chapter_. He just needed something… Something…

"Dad! Dad dad dad!"

He needed to answer Alexis. Consternation becoming a smile, Richard lowered his laptop screen and spun around on his stool. "Well hel-_lo_, Baby Bird, what's the word on the play?"

"It was _so_ good, but that's not the coolest part." Alexis let her ever-amused grandmother catch the front door, depositing her backpack en route to the island bar. "_Kate Beckett_ said it would be okay if I joined her and Gram for coffee sometime soon."

Puzzled, Rick sidetracked: "Do you _drink_ coffee?"

"Oh, keep up, Richard," Martha sighed.

"So? Is it okay with you?" Alexis' baby-blue eyes probed his face for a reaction.

Well, how could he say no to _that_? He couldn't, if the rest of her young life had been any indication. Rick laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Of course it's fine with me."

"Aah!" The teen threw her arms around her father, effectively pinning his elbows to his ribcage. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Jeez! Don't thank _me_, thank my chiropractor," Rick laughed. "What's so great about this 'Kate Beckett,' anyway?"

"_Dad_." Alexis rolled her eyes, moving back from the hug to take a seat and grab an orange from the bowl.

"What? It's just a question - and if you answered it before I probably wasn't listening."

"She's only the most Broadway-bound up-and-coming actress in greater New York. Ask Gram."

"It's true, darling," said the matriarch, mixing a festive-looking martini at the drink cart. "Our third production together, and I have never seen a part that woman could not conquer. If she and I were in competition with one another I'd have pushed her down the stairs by now."

"Mother!"

"Oh, relax, Richard, I'm _kidding_." She took a hearty sip of her creation.

"Anyway." Rick gave his attention back to the _sane_ female in the house as she spoke again. "Getting to spend time with her is like…getting to spend time with a budding Idina Menzel. She's been in like thirty plays - "

"_Productions_, dear."

" - all up and down the Metro Theatre circuit; she graduated NYU acting school with honors and was almost considered to take over Audra McDonald's old part in - "

"Well, _that_ one was speculation on my part," interjected Martha again.

"She's _really_ good, dad," Alexis finished. "And really nice, too."

"Wow. Well." Absorbing all this information, Rick looked between the two women in his life and landed back on Alexis. "I guess I _am_ behind. Who knew you were liaising with future mega-stars, huh? Besides me, of course," he winked.

"I'm _so_ excited," the highschooler gushed. "I have so many questions about the play, and her part and everything - I mean, even Mr. Ryan loved it. He was a few rows left of where I was but I could totally tell he was into it when I passed him to go backstage."

"Ah, the famous Mr. Ryan comes up again," Rick mused, raising a mug of coffee he'd been nursing on the counter there for a while. He took a sip - but then paused, eyebrows taking a quick trip as realization set in. "Wait. Your English teacher went to the play?"

"As _everyone_ should've," Martha hinted - scoldingly, one might add - from the living room.

Rick's brow flattened. "I told you, mother, I will catch it Saturday evening; can we leave it alone now?"

"Yeah, he was there," replied Alexis, peeling her orange. "He said he promised a friend he'd see it, so when he saw I was running late he offered to share his cab."

"Well, that was nice of him," Rick said…but he said it a little absently. Something rusty in the back of that old head of his was turning. Gears, probably. That was the phrase, right? So cliché he'd tuned it out for the better part of his career; Black Pawn's red pens were his worst nightmare…

"Well, he _is_ nice," reasoned Alexis, continuing: "Which turned out to be a good thing, because by then my only other option would've been stealing some kid's Schwinn from the bike rack."

"Hold on," Rick paused her.

"Not _really_, dad."

"No no, not that." He held up a palm - either those gears in his head were sparking something or he needed to rethink those taquitos he'd had for lunch. "The girl whose entire collection of Perfect Attendance certificates are still framed on her wall, almost running _late_? Don't leave me in curiosity."

Alexis flushed a bit - just her nature - and gave sort of an inward shrug. "I…met someone and lost track of time."

All teasing forgotten, Rick's nostrils flared instantly, balling up a fist on the countertop. "A boy I need to kill?" he said robotically - hey, no one had ever given him too much credit for 'growing up' or anything. Maturity was overrated.

"Dad, get real." Alexis calmly rolled her eyes and smoothed out her father's hand before the knuckles could go white. "No. I was talking to Mr. Ryan after the test, then I didn't realize how much time had gone by and I ended up…kind of crashing into the school recruiter. I was only late because I stayed to help him pick up the stuff he dropped."

"Drugs?"

"Army pamphlets. Besides, he was old."

"How old?"

"Like thirty."

_Oy. Daggers…be still my bleeding heart._ Kids. Rick made a mental note to himself to start lying downward with his own age, which had seen and passed thirty many moons ago. But the answer was satisfying enough, and he relaxed. "Oh. 'Kay then." Not that he was done thinking. He just wasn't sure _what_ he was thinking. _Something_ was there…

"He was nice, though. Especially nice considering I'm pretty good at initiating the hallway drive-by."

"Yeah…" He looked at his offspring with the quizzicality of…well, the best way to put it would be a newborn animal of some kind. _I wonder what barnyard animal I'd be anyway. Goat? I just feel like I'd be the goat. Nevermind, focus._ "You know, you sure do run into a lot of these 'nice' people in a day. Fascinating people. Whatever descriptive words you want to use - you come home with more stories in one afternoon than I can put down on paper_…_"

With a smirk way too wise-beyond-her-years, the teen slid off her stool and clapped a hand on her puzzled pop's shoulder. "That's because I actually get out of the house," she said simply. Rising forward to peck his cheek, she grabbed her orange to-go. "Homework. I'll be upstairs." And away up the stairs she went.

Martha chuckled on her way over from the drink cart, filling the seat her son was still gaping at. "She's got a point there, kiddo."

For once - God forbid it - his mother was actually right. _Alexis_ was right. Away from the laptop; _that's_ where the inspiration was. It was out there. It was all out there. Abruptly, those rusty old gears finally got a light to turn on up there, and boy, what a bulb. "That's _it_." He knew what he was going to do now! Vaguely he wondered if this was what Connelly always felt like. Only richer.

"Richard, for heaven's sake, what's gotten into you?"

"Mother, I'm going to be honest with you: I have no idea."

"Oh, well _that's_ comforting, thank you."

"All I know…is that I _have_ an idea. I have an _idea_."

"But you just said - "

"Ah, don't listen to me, I'm rambling." He shut his laptop the rest of the way with a decisive _clap_, and, springing off of his barstool, shocked Martha with a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back, don't wait up. Money's on the counter for dinner - order me an egg roll! Spicy!"

Before the Grand Dame had a chance to blink, respond, or scream for medical help, the whirlwind of Richard Castle had already snatched his jacket and dashed out the door. After a moment, she shrugged in resignation at her raised martini glass. "Mama's gonna need a few refills."

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**Bam, said the lady. XD So there's chapter two. Next time, I'm thinking we'll see a little of Mr. Ryan's POV, and maybe introduce some more of alt-Lanie's world…plus, I know you're dying to find out what Rick's about to do. ;D I'm working on it.**

**As always: are you 14 or over? Love to write? Love Castle? I've got a free, writing-based Castle RPG forum; interested parties just go check out the bold paragraph in my profile. **

**I absolutely adore reviews - the more specific, the better, though I'd love to hear anything you've got. Favorite part? Please don't hesitate; reviews are love, and we all love love. ;D**

**Third chap in the works. Thanks guys. ^^**

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	3. The Contemplation Conversation

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**Here goes chapter three. A thousand apologies for the CRAZY-long delay, but you know what they say: life happens swiftly and without warning. (I'm sure someone says that.) Or even better: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans" (John Lennon).**

**Anyway, do enjoy. ^^ (Oh: this section picks up a short while later. Was Friday; now the following Monday. Carry on.)**

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"So you're coming to the matinee on Wednesday, right?"

Walking idly around her kitchenette, Kate twirled the phone cord around her finger until it turned white, then back the other way again. Most people she knew didn't even _have_ a landline anymore, but the apartment had a jack for it, and she liked the feel of having a 'home base.'

"_Absolutely. It is…_" On the other line, Johanna paused, probably scribbling something down about it. "_On my calendar as we speak. Have I told you how proud I am of you in the last few days, Katie kid?_"

A grin crossed Kate's face: not only did she already know, but she could hear her mom loading the dishwasher in the background, and it reminded her of home. "Yeah. I think I got the idea."

"_Well good. But I might just say it five or six more times backstage when I get there. Loudly. After introducing myself to all your actor-friends as 'the star's mom.' I think I get to do that, right?_"

"Only if you want me to be severely hated," Kate laughed. But…then her expression faded, becoming pure curiosity as she slowly sifted her mail with the other hand.

Johanna caught onto the pause almost immediately. "_Katie? You still with me over there?_"

"No, yeah, I'm still here, mom," she assured. _Huh…well that's weird._ "It's just that I got this envelope in the mail just now. It looks like a personal letter, but I don't recognize the return address."

"_If you like, I can see if there's a way to sue_," her mother jokingly offered.

"Hang on." Kate set the phone down on the countertop and held the envelope up to the light. All she saw inside was a folded rectangle of paper; no blades or powder or anything like that. It was still New York, after all, and people were nuts. You could never be too careful. The coast clear, she dug a finger into the corner of the envelope and dragged it across, impatiently unfolding what was, in fact, a handwritten letter. Just not exactly in the way she expected.

Mutely, she scanned it for a full minute, reading every word twice. Then Kate picked up the phone.

"…Mom? I'll have to call you back…"

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He'd always believed in stubborn perseverance. That was how Mr. Ryan made it through his first-period study hall and two subsequent Oedipus discussions today: he simply opted not to let the letter in his vest pocket distract him. Done deal. Right? Curiosity wasn't going to make the clock go any faster, he reasoned - the same thing he told a lot of his students, ironically, though in a cruel turn, they were right: it didn't work so much. He tried not to think about it anyway.

The summons had been in the mail when he'd gone down to check the box this morning. Right there by the junk mail, which, c'mon, was probably where he should've filed it to begin with. Honestly, what was he even curious for? Could be a psycho, a Ponzi scheme, a guy trying to sell ShamWows. Maybe later he'd have to ask Jenny's advice… Who _was_ this person anyway? Someone who wanted to meet. Someone who thought they were crafty, obviously. Either they were right or they were one of those Unabomber types…Kevin didn't figure for the second one. At least, he hoped not.

The end of third period meant he was officially on his lunch break. Like clockwork, Mr. Ryan filtered into the hallway immediately after the eleven-fifteen bell, en route to Marlowe Prep Academy's only designated teachers' lounge. His habit of being on-time or early meant that there was only one other person in the room when he arrived, and he recognized the man from behind.

"Hey, mornin' Sarge," he greeted, feeding a dollar bill into one of the two vending machines.

The recruiter had a habit of taking his lunches on-campus with the regular staff, so this song-and-dance was familiar. "Teach," he returned, opening the common fridge and inspecting the inside. "You know you guys got at least three things in here look like they're crawling?"

"Ah, yeah." Kevin scooped up his bag of chips from the drop slot and grabbed a seat at one of the tables. "Those would belong to the advanced chem classes. Studying the growth and development of contained and climate-controlled mold spores."

"Ah. _That's_ why I'm not eating it." Finding what he wanted at the back of one of the shelves, the First Sergeant shut the fridge door and joined him at the table, claiming the seat opposite. He set his paper bag on the table and unfolded the top, rummaging through. "Avocado?"

"Thanks. I'll pass." Kevin always figured he'd never last two seconds in the army. Esposito here always seemed to bring a ration's worth of rudimentary-cardio-approved food with him and usually finished maybe half of it. Kevin, on the other hand, would perfectly happy teaching English the rest of his life not just because he loved the curriculum, but because he'd always been a fan of spending weeknights on his ass in a Barka lounger with a box of Cheez-It crackers.

Of course, then there were moments where Sarge exhibited that he _was_, in fact, a normal human being: someone had left a very-recently-hot pizza box on the table, and they both helped themselves to generous slices. No name, fair game.

"Any luck today?" asked Mr. Ryan, after putting away a few chips and a bite of The Works.

His comrade finished his own first, shaking his head as he took a napkin. "I'm headin' back out there for the kids' second and third lunch, but I don't see a whole lot comin' out of it. It's the same four or five kids over and over who keep comin' up to ask questions, and one's already goin' to Brown."

"Yeah, well, s'not _your_ fault. Still think your superior officer's got his head in his ass thinkin' you'll have any luck getting kids to join at a _prep_ school. I mean, come on, right? We're not exactly 'Be All You Can Be,' here; it's more like…'Cheat All You Can Cheat Off The Person Next To You.'"

Esposito laughed. "Got that right. No offense."

"None taken."

"Anyway, I dunno if I'll be here much longer."

That caused Kevin to look up mid-chew. "Thought you were off active duty?" Call him impressionable, but over the past few months he'd fallen in pretty good with the guy. A friend was hard to find in a job where everybody was competing for tenure.

The other man gave a half-shrug. "I was, but we've got guys pullin' outta the sandbox right and left, and it's not like we can just leave it like that right now. I'd go back for another tour if they needed me."

"And, this'd make your…" he left a blank there.

"Fifth tour total," Esposito filled in. "Second with rank." He picked up a slice of avocado from the plastic bag, then seemed to rethink it and dropped it back on his napkin, raising the pizza slice again. "Besides, I got a letter this morning that could end up bein' somethin'. Think they might want me to start training rubes, or maybe take on some high-profile mission. I'll know tomorrow."

"Huh…well, the offer's impressive, anyway." Mr. Ryan had ventured to the fridge during that talk, and returned to his seat now with two cans of Diet Coke; he slid one toward his friend and tipped the other companionably. "Good luck either way."

"Thanks. Whether I'm right or not I'll probably need it."

"Oh, _please_, you don't need luck, you've got the U.S. government equivalent of an AT-AT walker."

The recruiter raised one eyebrow at him, thinking for a minute. "…Star Wars?"

"The Empire Strikes…yeah. Nevermind. I just heard it again in my head."

"Hey, works for me." He stopped to chew some more pizza, washing it down with a drink of Coke. "What about you?" he nodded at Mr. Ryan, "You said your AP kids had that big test on Friday?"

"Yeah, yeah, they, uh, they did." He took another chip.

"How'd Alexis do?"

Hearing Sgt. Esposito refer to Alexis by name was nothing new. Mr. Ryan spent roughly half his lunches reading or grading papers, and the other half spouting off about his day. He figured Esposito could tell that Alexis was one of his favorite students simply by how many times she came up in conversation. What _was_ new was the fact that he was taking an interest in her test scores. That was a first. Kevin showed his surprise with a quick raise of the eyebrows, but his reply was proud anyway. "She got a hundred and one. Answered every question perfectly _and_ finished the extra credit."

"Yeah? Good for her."

"Very. Not even sure why I'm surprised." He studied his lunch partner for a moment, the hand with his can of Coke paused halfway. "Out of curiosity, why the interest?"

"I met her the other day. Friday after last period."

He grinned then. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good kid - finally see what you've been talkin' about. Not the best _reflexes_, but, definitely a good kid."

Mr. Ryan looked at him skeptically. "You didn't make her do pull-ups or anything, did you?"

"Phh. Hell no - I meant we 'ran into' each other. As in, literally."

"Ah. Gotcha." Kevin wasn't sure why he'd felt the need to reaffirm the 'reflex' comment. Mostly because the image of Alexis Castle dropping and giving anybody twenty was on par with a zombie apocalypse.

"Seemed like she was in a hurry, though," the recruiter noted.

"She was. Her grandmother was in a play and she didn't wanna be late."

"I'm sorry: her _grandmother_ was in a play?" Esposito looked incredulous, then just amused, shaking his head as he balled up the paper bag containing the remains of his lunch. "What kinda family's this kid come from?"

"You have no idea, my friend. You should sit in on a parent-teacher conference sometime."

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Now _how_ hard was it to get somebody to put down the time on the damn sign-in sheet? That was the way it went. You sign your name, you _mark the time_, and nobody gets a lecture. Clock in. clock out. Not rocket science. "All I know is, I saw her around ten-thirty this morning and she said she was takin' her fifteen-minute break."

Lanie's supervisor didn't have time to remain stationary for this conversation - hell, nobody did - so she followed on his heels while he talked. "Okay, fine, then I'll dock her next paycheck for the extra time and credit yours the month after. I still need you to cover for her while she's out."

_Don't I always_. This job was entirely thankless sometimes. "What if I said this was my second shift in a row," Lanie rebutted.

Her attending spun around on her, causing Lanie to stop short - literally. Caulfeld had at least a good five inches' height on her. "Then I'd say start packing caffeine capsules or drink a Red Bull. Vending machines, due west - look at it this way: you're that many hours closer to completing your residency. Now. If you'll excuse me, _Nurse_ Parish, I have a surgery on Five."

Stuck in her footprints, Lanie glared daggers and possibly AK-47s at the back of the attending to go along with the string of silent curses she sent with him. "Yeah, and you're that many hours closer to my foot up your ass," she grumbled under her breath. From behind her right shoulder, another nurse came up and chuckled at the comment, taking the clipboard out of Lanie's hands.

"Please, make good on that," she said.

Lanie gave her an exhausted smile. "Hey, Heather."

"Hey." Signing with a flourish, Heather handed the clipboard back to her, and Lanie took it. "That should take care of Dr. Douche for at least an hour."

"Thanks, girl, I owe you one."

"Oh, don't even, you owe me nothing. You save me when Morgan stuck _me_ here last week, remember?"

"I do not understand why in the hell they don't fire that girl already."

"Probably because she's sleeping with every attending on the floor," Heather winked.

"Mm, I would _not_ be surprised…"

"Oh. That reminds me."

"How does _that_ remind you?" Lanie laughed.

Her fellow nurse let it go. "There was someone here to see you downstairs a few minutes ago. They're on their way up now; should be any second."

Before Lanie had a chance to form any educated guesses about who exactly that might be, a familiar voice was already coming up the hallway behind her. "Lanie!"

"Right on time." Heather took the clipboard out of Lanie's hands again. "I'll file this, come to think of it - and, that would be my cue to go." She gave her a sly smile and a "Take your break" before slinking away.

Lanie good-naturedly rolled her eyes before settling them on her best friend. "Hey, Kate."

"_There_ you are."

The med-student's glance turned skeptical. "Okay, why do you look like you just lit a match and left without puttin' the fire out?"

"Are you busy?"

"Not right now, no - I'm takin' a long lunch break and if Caulfeld doesn't like it he can bite me. What's goin' on?"

No more enlightened, Lanie watched Kate yank a piece of folded paper out of her coat pocket and hold it up in the fluorescents for all to see. "We need to talk."

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"…_Well_?"

Kate leaned further forward on her elbows, by now totally ignoring the cup of diet Cherry Crush that sat in front of her. Across from her, Lanie was still focusing one hundred percent of her attention on the text of the letter, and the silence was driving Kate nuts. If someone didn't say something in the next ten seconds, she was gonna explode.

Lanie squinted at the letter again in a way that had nothing to do with the hospital's overbright cafeteria lights. Finally, she laid the paper down next to her can of A&W.

"And you're _positive_ that you don't know this guy," she checked.

Kate shook her head, relieved to find someone as incredulous about this madness as _she_ was. "I don't even know if it _is_ a guy. It could be a woman. It could be that creepy old Asian man that runs the register at Andoloro's and gives me this _leer_ every time I go in - how should _I_ know?"

"Honey. I don't think Mr. Hyun - "

"Oh, good, you know his name."

" - thinks far enough ahead to send you a letter. If he wanted to creep, he'd just creep."

"Comforting," Kate rolled her eyes. Then she reached forward and poked the letter. "Now help me."

"I'm _trying_ to help you; I'm helpin' you decide whether or not you need to bring mace and a Life Alert when you go meet with this guy."

Sitting up a little straighter, Kate's eyes widened. "So you think I _should_ go?"

"I did not say that," her friend clarified. "Let's take this one step at a time, here." Lanie paused for a moment, eyed her friend, then made an observation. "You obviously _want_ to go…"

"How do you know that? I never said I wanted to go."

Lanie simply arched one eyebrow. That eyebrow had been known to sink ships before.

"…Okay, so I want to go."

"Mm-hm. Like I said. And then there's the matter of the aftermath."

Was it just her, or was Lanie speaking Chinese now? "Aftermath? What aftermath?"

"If you don't go. I know you, girl. You pass this up, and you'll be callin' me up every day at some point or other, whinin' about how you'll 'never know' and how you 'coulda passed up the opportunity of a lifetime' and all kindsa crap like that. And frankly, I'd just as soon not deal with that for the rest of my life, thank you very much."

Kate's flattened brow matched her even flatter voice. "So you want me to show up and meet a total stranger to spare you twenty years of melodramatic phonecalls. Thanks, I'm convinced now. Let me get my coat."

Mock-insulted, Lanie swatted her friend's arm. "You know what I mean. Admit it, I'm right."

"Never," Kate stubbornly teased back. She picked up the wrapper from her straw and started ripping it to methodical bits, just to give her nervous hands a task to do. "And besides, you said 'guy' again. You don't know it's a guy."

"Katie, _believe_ me. You just got a mystery letter from somebody who wants to meet you in person. If it's _not_ a guy, I will be shocked, disappointed, and you can also kiss my ass."

"Great - so now I'm on Backdoor Matchmaker."

"Look. The day I stuff your size-nothing butt into a white gown and shove you down an aisle toward a psycho with split personalities and a parrot, _then_ you can worry." Kate gave her friend a look that said she was wary of that actually _happening_ one day, but Lanie was unfazed. "Nobody's saying marry the guy or even date the guy. Just _go_, see why he's so damn interested in meeting you, and if things start to look funky, you can get out of there and call me up. I'll come kick his ass back to obscurity for you, and you can bank on that one." Like most things Lanie said, it was a clean-cut summary, and she unwrapped a straw and dunked it into her can of root beer as if that punctuated the whole conversation.

For a few quiet moments, Kate thought about it. Actually, for a few quiet moments, Kate really just _pretended_ to think about it, if honesty counted here. How could she pass something like this up? It was too rare an opportunity, and there was something alluring about mystery. She'd be an idiot to ignore it. All she'd really needed was a good old fashioned, no-frills nudge over the fence - and what else were best friends for? If Lanie wasn't good for a dose of advice, then the world was made of Styrofoam and Cher would be making a comeback any time now.

Anticipating what was coming, Kate made a show of rolling her eyes again, and breathed out a heavy sigh. "Fine. I'll go."

She was right: Lanie's display of excitement would have embarrassed a less hardy soul. "If he's cute, I'm gonna need evidence. Take pictures."

"And ruin your fantasies of running drills with Sergeant Salacious?" Kate teased.

Lanie almost snorted. "Oh, please. I need reality."

"You know…you could just come with me." The actress raised one of her well-trained eyebrows along with the suggestion, waiting for her fish to take the bait. Her friend's face lit up in under a second.

"In that case, screw the pictures. Pick me up at three."

"Obviously. There's no way I'd let _you_ drive."

She ignored the napkin that bounced off her face in mock-retaliation, finally taking sips of her soda through a Cheshire-wide grin. Ammo was nothing. At four o'clock tomorrow, Kate Beckett would experience her first official twist of fate.

The script was hers, and she was ready for her close-up.

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**Worlds are about to collide, people. Can you handle it? (If you're even still reading?) XD Next chapter (whenever that is): Castle's POV as his plan of epicness comes together. ;]**

**You guys know how I always mention my Castle RPG forum on new chapters, right? Well, this time there's an update: WE NEED SOMEONE TO PLAY LANIE! That's right: our old Lanie RP-er has decided to give up the character, and we're desperately in need of someone to fill Dr. Parish's shoes. Or scrubs. ;D Anyone interested, just go read the bold paragraph in my profile (or even PM me!) and we can take it from there. ^^ **

**Even if I don't get the chance to respond to every review personally, I'd just like you guys to know that I REALLY appreciate when you share what you're thinking - ApollaCammi, runeaglerun, The-Sun-Princess, Duck Life…there are more of you out there, but those are just a few whose reviews stuck out to me. I love you all! ^^ That said, **_**please**_** consider reviewing real quick. It's such a help knowing what works for you guys, or seeing what you noticed, etcetera. You guys know how fun it is to get shiny new reviews, right? ^^**

**I'm definitely continuing this story, even if updates take a long time. Shockingly, college is time-consuming, and this ain't the only fic in the sea. XD Thanks people - stay tuned!**

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